


love or the lack of it

by Ro29



Series: Messing around in the Soft Wars Sandbox [12]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: (Sorry Flame), (thanks kamino and priest), Always listen to the Medic, Angst, Brothers being assholes, Choking, Dred Priest is his own warning, Edee Feels, Gen, Harm to Children, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neyo is a little shit, Neyo needs a hug, Past Child Abuse, Sparring, Star Wars AU - Soft Wars, Valor Feels, War, breaking news: Neyo's dumb idead to spar with someone close to crisis actually works, brother being brothers, dealing with grief, ik im surprised too, im back on my bullshit sljflskjf
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-17 03:21:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28967514
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ro29/pseuds/Ro29
Summary: None of Squad Shebs had ever been able to fit in their armour, not really.Always too big, all of them, too much personality to be contained.That hasn’t changed, despite the way everything else has.
Relationships: CC-5052 | Bly/Aayla Secura (background), CC-8826 | Neyo & CC-5052 | Bly, CC-8826 | Neyo & Original Clone Trooper Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s)/Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Implied)
Series: Messing around in the Soft Wars Sandbox [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1937752
Comments: 15
Kudos: 102
Collections: Open Source Soft Wars





	love or the lack of it

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/gifts), [SailorSol](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SailorSol/gifts), [lastbattlecry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lastbattlecry/gifts).



> Thank you to Projie for letting me play in her sandbox, and Cry for helping me work some scenes out!!
> 
> title is a quote by Mr. Rogers
> 
> so this one is just a shade darker than the others and if descriptions of harm to children, an adult choking children out, children being forced to fight each other to the point of blacking out, and discussions of death are bad topics for you then please don't read! 
> 
> But yeah! hope you're doing okay today! please take care of yourselves.

Here's the thing, of all of the trainers Jango Fett picked to train his clones, there were few who were _kind_.

Priest was not one of them.

He’d have them spar with him sometimes, when the war was still a far off idea and none of them had seen a Jedi in person before. When Geonosis was just a random planet and not the first battle of many. When they were still being tested and trained and Priest was still the biggest monster in Neyo’s head and the ache for the rest of his batch was a physical pain he locked away, compartmentalized so he could keep himself going.

Priest would look over his hand-picked batch of cadets at times and decide that sparring against each other wasn’t enough. That running them until they dropped wasn’t working, wasn’t getting the results Priest wanted.

He would line them all up along the wall, order them to attention, point to one of them and tell the rest to watch, to do _better_.

(It was always about the competition with Priest, about taking everything out of them until they were more machine than man.)

Those spars, when they lost — and it was _when,_ not _if_ , because they were still only third-cycle cadets and Priest, for all Neyo hated him, was _good_ at what he did — always ended with Priest pinning them down, forcing them still, hand wrapped around the throat of the cadet under him until the panic kicked in and just a little past that before letting them free.

Once, Neyo had managed to keep still, force the panic away and down next to the longing in his chest for his batch, for the dubious safety of Edee and 6 and the annoying little shits next door.

He’d woken up in Medbay, throat sore and body feeling leaden and heavy, mind blurry and slow.

It was one of the few times Neyo woke to Priest waiting for him nearby. It was never a good thing, when that happened.

He walked up to Neyo’s bed, took his chin in his hand and looked at his face for a second, fingers pressing deep into skin.

The only thing he’d said was, “ _Good,”_ viciously pleased, before he left Neyo alone in the room, tired and a little numb and feeling very, very small.

He remembers that for a very long time afterward. Remembers that feeling and stares up at the ceiling and imagines being in Priest's place, feels sick and wants to throw up.

He can't be exactly what Priest demands, he knows that already. But he thinks of hands around his throat and he thinks, ' _I can't afford not to be the best_.'

He swallows and it burns his throat.

He very carefully doesn't think of Edee.

* * *

The room is quiet, Neyo blinks, doesn’t move.

Bly shifts, all those too soft edges still, even after everything.

He thinks they might have been almost close once, Bly and him, could have maybe known for sure if things had been different.

But they hadn’t been and Neyo is standing there, too sharp and jagged all around the edges, cutting into the parts of Bly he still hasn’t quite managed to cover.

None of Squad Shebs had ever been able to fit in their armour, not really.

Always too big, all of them, too much personality to be contained.

That hasn’t changed, despite the way everything else has.

Bly is soft still. Soft and completely besotted with his General. Standing on their ship, watching them together, Neyo thinks that Bly is even a bit of a romantic maybe.

Neyo isn’t sure, doesn’t know the shape of that feeling, doesn’t know the way it curls in your chest or presses soft into your hands, how it digs inside of you and pulls the good and the bad to the surface.

He used to think he wasn’t capable of it anymore, that Priest had dug into him and left him exactly how he wanted him, torn out all the bits of him that were flesh and blood until he was all machine.

Neyo thinks now that he just wasn’t meant for soft things.

He shifts against the wall he’s leaning on, a careful motion that bares teeth even with his bucket still on.

He knows what he was made to be, he wears it with every movement, every line of his body, a weapon forged and tempered.

Valor is on their way to resupply and give their reports and Star had been the one to pick them up. It’s been less than 2 hours since then and Neyo is still wearing the dirt and blood and wounds from the Sep side of the Blockade.

He is still shading towards ‘ _weapon’_ with every move, still acknowledging ‘ _threat_ ’ before thinking, ‘ _ally_ ’.

Bly and his General are a little worse for wear, and the debriefing is almost finished, and watching them be professional even as they lean into each other’s space is amusing. If only for the fact that he can use this later for vicious teasing.

They are almost painfully obvious, and really, if you’re gonna leave it that clear to everyone around you, then a brother’s got a _right_ to take the piss out of you.

Commander Bly brushes his vambrace against his General’s side and Neyo tilts his head, folds his arms.

It’s amusing to watch the way he goes stiff, straight-backed and challenging.

Neyo almost smiles under his bucket, sharp and provoking. The tense line of Bly’s shoulders and the careful way he moves around his General is enough entertainment to distract Neyo from the aches of his body.

(Priest had gotten most of the human out of him, shaped him into harsh lines and cruel edges, dug into him until Neyo was more machine than man, more droid than brother.

But for all of that, for all of that work, Priest had never managed to make Neyo forget pain completely. Never quite figured out how to make him not feel it, only how to accept it and then push through it.

Neyo had always taken it as the challenge it was, had beat it almost every time, blank faced and pushing forward.)

* * *

Sometimes, the competition was this, ‘How far can you run when you have no energy to run _on_.’

You pushed until you were on the brink of passing out for those ones, then you pushed some more, always more. You went until every part of your body gave out and then you stood up and tried to force yourself to move.

Usually, it meant that they were all exhausted enough to sleep for hours. Priest would only ever let them sleep for 5 at most.

And sometimes, most of the time, the competition was this, ‘Which one of you is better, which one of you can put the other down hard enough they might not get back up, which one of you can be shaped into something to kill with and nothing else.’

And Neyo was always too good at giving Priest what he wanted, even with all the ways he could never be _exactly_ the monster Priest demanded.

Every victory against Faie, against the others, always felt a little too much like hands squeezing tight around his throat.

But it was worse when he lost, when Faie looked down at him with dead eyes and put him down hard enough that he couldn’t breathe, cut his air off until he passed out.

Losing was always worse, losing against _Faie_ even more so.

No one in their little squad was friendly with each other, there was too much at stake if they were, and there was only ever rewards for when they were at each other’s throats.

Beating each other at the challenges was worth more than any attempts at friendship ever could be.

But Faie was everything Priest wanted, _demanded_ , and Neyo had long stopped taking losing well.

When they fight next, Neyo wins, and he thinks he can see the monster Priest craves them all to be nestled under his skin.

* * *

When the meeting is over, Neyo goes and makes sure his Valors are all bunked down, makes sure none of them are alone and that they all have someplace safe to shake apart or to process.

They have a tenday, maybe two, before they will be sent back out.

It is not enough time. It will have to be.

Flicker tries to bunk down alone, blank and shaking and still missing his last batchmate.

Both Flicker and Flame had been caught under heavy fire during a recon run, only Flicker had made it out.

It’s been long enough since then that Flicker’s processing is shading more towards ignoring it than anything else.

It’s easy as anything to get him to spar, Neyo doesn’t even have to prod him into it.

Neyo leads him to the training rooms, makes checks along the way that his Valor’s have _someone_ right now, even if it isn’t one of Star.

He sends a comm to Drop.

Drop is off shift right now, should be bunking down, though Neyo hadn’t gotten a chance to check on either him or Brace yet.

If this goes well they shouldn’t need a medic, but it’s better to be prepared, especially when Flicker is on the edge of crisis.

His comm beeps in response before he even gets to the training rooms.

‘ _Everything’s prepped, don’t make me need it or I’ll force you to actually get a full night’s rest.’_

Neyo huffs, types out quick, ‘ _Brace would never let you, he’d end up needing to do too much of my paperwork.’_

‘ _Brace knows what’s good for him_ ,’ Drop responds, _‘and he agrees with my plan of action.’_

Neyo keeps his face blank and even, doesn’t roll his eyes even though it’s entirely deserved.

‘ _I’m going to demote both of you one of these days.’_

Neyo waits for the response, knows he won’t get away with the last word this time only because his medic and SiC are just as bad as he is with that type of thing. He checks on Flicker, doesn’t like the far away look in his eyes or the way he’s moving.

He only hesitates a little before he reaches out, gets a firm grip on the back of Flicker’s neck, presses his fingers in enough to ground and just a shade off from hurting. Flicker settles a bit, comes back to the here and now a tad.

They’re almost to the training rooms, and Neyo knows once they’re there Flicker will either come back more or drift again.

Neyo’s comm beeps, and he reads Drop’s response, snorts.

‘ _You like us too much, and anyone else you tried to get to replace us would take too long to get used to you. Brace and I have the unfortunate honour of constant contact and are completely desensitized to your threats. You’ll have to try harder than that to_ _get out of sleep <3’_

Drop used hearts sparingly over comms, reserved only for threats made with complete pleasantness and often right before he called rank and hypo’d you.

‘ _Noted_ ,’ Neyo sends, ‘ _Tell Brace he has command’_ and then shuts his comm off before Drop can respond.

Having the last word really is just the _best_ feeling.

They get into the training room and Neyo focuses on Flicker.

Flicker’s eyes are still distant, the scar that crosses from just above his ear down to the corner of his lip standing out stark under the lights.

Normally, Neyo wouldn’t be sparring with someone so close to crisis, wouldn’t let it happen.

But Flicker has always needed to let some of that pent up energy out before he can settle and talk, to keep him from lashing out even more. And it’s safer for Neyo to do this, when he’s able to think clearly and is good enough to put Flicker on the mat without getting injured too badly.

Neyo settles into position, tilts his head a tad too far and grins, “You gonna start or what?”

Flicker starts, settles into position with a jerky shift, his hair falling into his face a bit with the movement.

Neither of them move for a second, and then Flicker is lunging forward.

It’s sloppy, far sloppier than he normally is and it’s easy to dodge him, grab his arm and twist him into a pin.

Flicker curses, and Neyo steps back, raises an eyebrow “That all you got? Come on, I know you can do better than that.”

Flicker sets his jaw, clenches his fists and lunges forward again, it’s fast, but Flicker was coded heavy gunner in his tank, was never quite as fast as Flame was. Where Flame would’ve been quick enough to get a foot under Neyo’s guard, Flicker just moves straight into Neyo’s fist.

Flicker takes the blow, moves with it and out of the way, Neyo keeps the same blank smile up even as he mentally frowns to himself. Decides to test a theory.

He moves forward in a feint, and Flicker doesn’t put his weight into a hit like he normally would, goes for a kick instead, something Flame would do, something Flicker isn’t used to doing, hasn’t perfected.

Neyo grabs the leg that’s a bit too far out, yanks Flicker forward and puts him down on the mat. It’s a harder hit this time than before, but Flicker is slowly losing his energy, not as angry anymore.

Flicker shakes and moves to stand, Neyo pushes him down.

_“Hold_.”

Neyo doesn’t normally do touch, but Flicker is alone and he’s always been tactile.

He presses down on Flicker’s shoulders, watches as some tension bleeds out of him.

“You’re gonna be okay.” Neyo says, and the rest of the fight drains out of Flicker completely.

“Kark you, sir” Flicker says, sounds tired.

“You will.” Neyo says, and it's a fact, but he’s never been like Bacara, has never been that solid, steady presence. Never been able to put a man back together just because of a fact, he challenges and prods and antagonizes until they do it just to shut him up and prove him wrong.

Flicker looks close to rolling his eyes so Neyo presses down harder on his shoulders, doesn’t think of hands around his throat.

“You _will_ be okay,” Neyo demands, looks Flicker in the eyes and doesn’t let him look away, “because otherwise Flame is going to kick you in the _shebs_ , or are you gonna let him down like that? By crumbling without him? Making his move to save you, his _last_ move, _worthless_?”

Flicker shakes, closes his eyes, and spits out, watery and vicious, “ _Kark you, sir.”_

Neyo waits it out, lets Flicker even out his breathing.

It’s war. Sometimes not everyone comes home. The fact that there’ve been so many near misses over the course of the war that didn’t _stick_ is already more than most of them could hope for.

Sometimes that luck runs out.

Flicker opens his eyes, breathing steadier and looking less lost than he did before.

Neyo stands, lets Flicker gets his feet under him and pull himself together a bit more before he runs through checks.

There’s nothing major, a bruise or two that aren’t serious, and Flicker may need to ice, but it’s nothing bad.

“You’re clear,” Neyo says, steps back and crosses his arms, “go bunk down with someone.”

Flicker hesitates and Neyo raises an eyebrow, “If I find out you bunked down alone I _will_ tell Drop.”

Flicker winces and nods, “Yes, sir.”

He turns to go and pauses, says quickly, “You should find someone to bunk down with too Commander.”

Neyo narrows his eyes, calls out to Flicker’s retreating back, “Remedial training! With _Torrent_.”

Flicker disappears quickly and Neyo allows himself to sit with his smugness.

He comms Drop, let’s him know that everything’s clear and he can head to sleep.

The ‘ _Loud and Clear, Sir <3’ _reads exactly like a ‘ _kark-you-kindly’._

Drop really had made passive aggressiveness an artform, Neyo was almost impressed.

He puts his comm away, leaves the training room, and raises an eyebrow.

Bly is waiting outside the door, leaning against the wall and watching, pretending to be busy reading a datapad.

Neyo tilts his head, grins wide, “Not with your General?”

Bly’s face is blank and his hands don’t so much as clench around his datapad, it’s a bit disappointing to be honest. Neyo had been sure that would get something out of him.

Bly stands up straight, puts the datapad away, “Too much emotional vulnerability for one day?” he snips.

Neyo’s smile bares teeth, “I’ve never met an emotion in my life. Haven’t ya heard?”

Bly gives him a careful look and Neyo itches to punch him or do _something_. He doesn’t, just rolls his shoulders back and walks, measured and sure, down the hall.

Bly keeps pace with him and there’s an itch under his skin and it feels, uncomfortably, like losing.

Neyo isn’t sure what he’s lost yet, but he’s certain there’s _something_ , because Bly is looking at him like he’s something to be studied and it _grates_. Feels like being tested and found wanting. Feels like hands around his throat.

They walk in silence, Neyo not quite sure where he’s going and Bly following him.

Bly breaks it, not looking at him and all casual, “Valor’s all accounted for and okay.”

Neyo narrows his eyes, doesn’t like the implication that he hadn’t checked, “I’m aware.”

Bly rolls his eyes, waves a hand, clarifies, “They’re all bunking with someone, either another Valor or one of my Star’s, one or two of them were trying to get put on shift but we got them to settle and rest.”

Neyo nods, tilts his head in acknowledgment and doesn’t say anything.

He watches Bly from the corner of his eye, where Bly is very carefully not looking at him still.

“We’ve got over ten hours before we make it back.”

Neyo nods, he was in the briefing too, he knows they’ve got a while until they land.

Bly shrugs, “All of Valor should get some rest.”

_Ah_. So that’s what this was.

Neyo shrugs, words sharp, “I’m sure we’ll all be properly occupied. I’ve got paperwork to do, and you’ve got a General to go kriff.”

Bly stiffens, jaw clenching and Neyo smiles.

Bly’s always been too soft, even with all his brains.

He loves his General and takes the perceived insult like a puffed up tooka. Neyo hums, amused at the reaction and figures it’ll be distraction enough.

There’s quiet and Neyo thinks he might be able to slip away and find an empty room, but Bly huffs, brushes it off and speaks instead.

It’s easy to forget that Bly is a Shebse until he pulls some stubborn bullshit on you, Neyo thinks sourly.

“Still, there’s ten hours, you can bunk down for a bit and get some shut eye before you get your paperwork done.”

Neyo pauses, leans against the wall and narrows his eyes at him, “And your General?” he asks, pudding-sweet and tooka-eyed.

Bly rolls his eyes, “General Secura is perfectly capable of keeping herself occupied.”

Bly keys open a door and raises an eyebrow, it makes Neyo twitchy but he’s tired and his aches and pain from before are more pronounced and sleep sounds appealing.

“I don’t share bunk,” Neyo says, voice flat.

Bly shrugs. “That’s fine, just get some shut eye, I’ll keep the watch.”

Neyo slips into the room, doesn’t take off his armour or his boots, and sneers at Bly’s disapproving look.

He sleeps, and it shouldn’t feel like losing but it does.

He sleeps and he thinks of hands around his throat and blackness swallowing him.

**Author's Note:**

> I am....emotional now lsjflksjflk. Why Do i do this to myself and who gave me permission to do this ksdjflksjf
> 
> If you want to find me other places I have a [writing tumblr](https://rose-blooms-red.tumblr.com) and a [fandom tumblr](https://themessofthecentury.tumblr.com)
> 
> Please come yell at me about Star Wars and DC!


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